Home for Christmas
by Kat-of-the-Streets
Summary: Slightly late (sorry!) entry for the Christmas fanfic exchange. Picture was the cover image, the word was 'velvet'. Set in December 1901. Robert is sent home from South Africa but will he overcome his struggles?
1. Chapter 1

"It is hot and it hurts so much."

.

.

"Captain Crawley? Can you hear me?"

He tries to nod und rasps an almost silent "Yes."

"We are sending you home Captain. You've been lucky. You could have been killed."

"Bates?" he asks. Bates is his batman. He saved his life.

"Has already been sent home. He only sustained an injury in the knee. It may or may not heal. Your shoulder will heal. But it will be very painful. The infection has gone away, your fever has been reduced. You are not fit for active duty so you have to return home."

"Thank you doctor," he says, feeling his strength leaving him again.

"Clarkson. Richard Clarkson." He must remember those names. John Bates and Dr. Richard Clarkson. He'd be dead without them.

The next time he wakes, he is already on a ship and the first thing he does is vomit onto the floor next to the bed.

"Do you need any help?" a nurse asks him but he shakes his head. "Seasick. My wife thinks it is funny."

"Your wife can't be very nice then."

"She is very nice. I miss her. And our daughters. We have three little girls. Wonderful girls."

"How old are they?" The nurse has now sat down next to him.

"Mary is 10, Edith is 9 and Sybil is 6."

"And you don't have a son."

"No."

"I am sorry."

"Why?" he asks in utter bewilderment. This woman does not know him after all and he isn't sorry Cora and he don't have a son. He would have liked to have one and the same is true for Cora but some things just aren't to be.

"Aren't you a future earl? That's what it says on here," the nurse says, waving a paper, probably his file.

"There is an heir. A cousin of mine. Lovely young boy about Mary's age. He will be a good earl some day."

"And your wife?" He has no idea why the nurse asks him all these questions but maybe she just wants to see whether he can hold a normal conversation.

"Wonderful woman. God I miss her."

"So it was a love match?"

"It certainly is now," he says and can't help smiling.

"Wonders never cease," the nurse says and then gets up to take care of another patient. Robert wonders for a moment what the nurse meant but she was probably referring to the fact that aristocratic marriage are not very often based on love. But his certainly is. Love wasn't the reason he pursued Cora, he is now very ashamed of having pursued her for her money, but it came along quickly.

The journey back to England takes an unbearably long time and he wonders whether he will be home before Christmas. He doubts it very much. The pain in his shoulders eases a little but his longing for his family becomes ever greater.

When they arrive in England he doesn't even know where they are and before he can ask any questions he is put into military coach. Apparently he is to be taken to London. In London he is picked up by someone from the War Office where he has to go answer questions concerning how he sustained his injury. He is then examined by another military doctor and told that in all likelihood he wouldn't have to return to South Africa. Only when he is outside again, left alone on the streets of London with a hurting shoulder, freezing because it has begun the snow does he realize what he has just been told. He survived the war. He looks up and feels the snow falling on his face and feels as if he was stung by a thousand bees. He is not used to this kind of cold. It had always been so warm in South Africa. He misses the warmth.

He boards a train towards York and realizes only when he is on the train that he should have visited Rosamund but somehow he isn't sad that he momentarily forgot about his sister. He isn't ready to talk to anyone yet, least of all her who lost her husband in the war six months ago. The news of Maramduke's death had shocked him. Just as the whole war shocked him. He imagined it to be a camping trip in a warm country with shooting exercises. What it was was a bloody nightmare that you had to survive, no matter how. He has always been a good shot, even at 12 when his father took him along for the hunt for the first time. And because he is a good shot, he shot at people during the war and killed them. The first few had hurt and he had prayed for their souls but eventually that feeling had subsided to be replaced by coldness towards most other people around him. Except for his batman. John Bates had become his friend, they were more than just an officer and his servant. John Bates saved his life. He hasn't seen him since that faithful day and realizes that he misses him.

There is no one he can talk to, all he hears is the rhythmic rumbling of the train wheels. He falls into a doze that has him half asleep and half awake and he imagines seeing his family again. But ironically, the closer he gets to York, the closer he gets to Downton after changing trains in York, the less excited he becomes. He longed for his wife and children, in a manner even his parents and sister, so much when he was on the ship but all that is fading against the fear of them not wanting him anymore. He doesn't know why they wouldn't want him anymore but he feels as if the country did not want him anymore. All this bloody snow that is completely white.

When he gets of the train in Downton village there is no one to pick him up which emphasizes his feeling of not being welcome. He decides to walk to the Abbey despite the pain in his shoulders and to avoid the main roads. He would have to talk to people if he was seen and he is not in the mood to talk. On his way through the woods he slips on snow and leaves that have fallen of the trees and he thinks that it is all wrong, that it should be warm and that that bloody white snow should go away. But instead it intensifies. He has to remind himself that he is in North Yorkshire now. When the Abbey looms in front of him he considers turning around and going to London to visit Rosamund after all but he knows that his duty lies at Downton and doing his duty is what his life is about after all.

Of course there is no one there to greet him and he knows deep down that he should be happy about this because he can now surprise his family and see the joy on their faces. He isn't sure whether they will experience any joy in seeing him. They obviously don't know that he is coming home, otherwise they'd have sent a carriage. Or stand waiting for him in front of the Abbey where there is no one. So he rings the doorbell like some common visitor and it is Carson, newly appointed head butler who opens to door for him. The man is his true stuck up self and only whispers 'my lord', when he sees him.

"Don't tell them," he says and the young butler nods. He walks into the entrance hall and finds his family and almost all of the indoor staff there decorating the tree. No one notices him and he thinks that rather fitting his mood. Until Mary turns around and looks him squarely in the eyes, understanding and wonder dawning on her face.

She is now 10 years old, almost eleven and on her way to becoming a young lady. But her face changes from composed mild interest to childish utter joy when she realizes that her Papa has really come home and he feels the ice around his heart he hadn't even known was there melt. She wants to shout and run but he puts a finger to his lips, shakes his head and winks at her. She nods, smiles, winks back and returns to decorating the tree. He feels that he has to watch this scene in silence, to let it all sink in. He wants to watch it for hours and hours to get used to being home but quite contrary to his wishes, Sybil then turns around and sees him too and although he shakes his head at her, she comes to him but at least she doesn't run. She stands in front of him and despite himself he leans down and picks her up, something he regrets immediately. Sybil has become quite a lot heavier than he remembers and his shoulder feels as if it was torn apart.

"Papa," his little girl whispers and kisses his cheek. It makes him feel a lot warmer but it doesn't make his shoulder hurt any less. "I missed you Papa," Sybil whispers into his shoulder and it almost makes him cry. "I missed you too," he says to her.

"Will you stay?" his little girl asks with such a tremor in her voice that he wishes he had never left.

"Probably yes."

"So that Queen of Country doesn't need you anymore?"

"Who is the Queen of Country?" he asks. He has no idea what his youngest daughter is talking about.

"Mama says you have to fight for the Queen of Country." It makes him laugh, he can't help it.

"For Queen and Country," he says. "And I was injured a little so I probably can't go back and fight."

"Injured Papa? Are you sick?"

"No Sybil. My shoulder hurts a little."

"Then you should put her down," Mary says and he sees both Mary and Edith standing right in front of him. Apparently Mary turned around again and when she saw that Sybil was already with him, she wanted to come to him too, Edith in tow. He really puts Sybil down then and gives both Mary and Edith a hug. Both of his older girls begin to cry and it breaks his heart. He had no idea how much it would affect his daughters that he wasn't there.

He watches Cora and quite despite the fact that both his parents are there, she seems to be the one the servants turn to with their questions. He supposes that is because she is so much nicer than his mother. Eventually she seems to notice that her daughters aren't around her anymore and she looks around searching for them. When she turns towards him and sees him standing in front of one of the pillars in his uniform, surrounded by their daughters she halts in her movements, stares, drops the ornaments she is holding and then begins walking towards him. He sees that it is hard for her not to run but she doesn't and he thinks it is a bit ridiculous. When she reaches him their daughters move of their own accord to let their mother pass and Cora wraps her arms around him, he pulls her close, she whispers "Robert, thank god," and he feels nothing besides emptiness.

* * *

AN: I am so sorry this is late but life just got in the way as it sometimes does. That is also the reason why I haven't reviewed (or in fact read) any of the other stories of this exchange. But I will get to that, I promise.

I know I also still owe a Violet/Patrick story, I hope to be able to put it up either Christmas Day or Boxing Day but I can't make any promises on that.

Anyway, I hope you like this and let me know what you think of it!

In case we don't 'see' each other before the big day, merry Christmas to you all!

Kat


	2. Chapter 2

I am so sorry for not updating this any sooner but we were swarmed with guests over the past week. That means we have lots of family and friends, which is of course a good thing :). I will review all the other stories out here once I get to read them and I am looking forward to reading them very much.

More at the bottom.

* * *

He goes through the motion of hugging Cora and kissing her but still he doesn't feel anything. He longed for her so much when he was away and now that she is back in his arms he wishes one of them was somewhere else. He tells himself that the war hasn't been easy, that he needs time to readjust, but deep down in his heart he knows there is something wrong. He felt joy at hugging his girls.

He is glad when his parents walk over to him and for the first time in his life he sees them cry. His mother even gives him a kiss on the cheek and his father pats his shoulder and they seem genuinely to see him again. 'Well, they should. I am the heir,' he thinks and wants to hit himself on the nose for even letting such a thought enter his mind. He knows that is not why his parents are happy to see him again, he knows they really were afraid and really did miss him. But somehow he can't stop it. He can't stop thinking that the only reason his mother, his father and Cora are happy that he is back is that he is the future earl, the future of the family, the man that will give Cora the title her parents paid for. 'God,' he thinks, 'I have to stop this' but he can't. So he mumbles something about being tired and wanting to go to bed. His parents and wife nod and say 'of course you do', and let him go. He wishes they'd have begged him to stay. Maybe they are glad that he won't be with them any longer. 'Stop it,' he tells himself but to no avail.

When enters his room he feels colder than ever before. There is a roaring fire going, Carson probably told one of the servants to take care of it, but his room doesn't feel like his room anymore. There is no dirt, no heat from the sun, no guns can be heard, no officers shouting. This is wrong. This is not his home.

He undresses without help, Bates isn't there after all, and then goes to bed. The bed is far too soft. It should be hard and tiny but it isn't and he can't fall asleep. And it is so damn quiet. So he looks for a bottle of Scotch and finds one where it has always been. It is a new bottle and without realizing it he drinks more than half of it. He stumbles onto his bed but still can't sleep. It's the too soft bed and the too quiet house. The Scotch makes itself known after a while and he has to puke. He doesn't make it to the bathroom and so he just throws up onto his bed. He then takes his pillow and his blanket and lies down on the floor. He can't sleep in his own puke and the floor is much harder than the bed and he falls asleep almost right away.

.

"Wake up!"

He jumps immediately. He is a soldier, ready to fight and so when he feels someone shake his shoulder he is sure that they are about to fight. He says 'get Bates' without checking who has woken him, looks around for his uniform and only then realizes that he is not in South Africa and that it wasn't a strange soldier who woke him but his wife. She looks at him with fear in her eyes and to stop her asking any questions he says "bad dream". She nods and smiles and then looks to his bed and at his pajamas and he suddenly remembers the scotch and the puke.

"The dressing gong is about to ring," Cora says and looks at him questioningly.

"What do I care about that?" he snaps at her and she only nods. "I'll ask someone to change the sheets in here then so you can sleep. Try to sleep in bed darling, please," she says, walks over to him, runs the back of her left hand over his cheek once and then leaves. The coolness of the rings on her hand leave a strange tingling across his cheek.

Because he knows that Cora will check on him later, he really does lie down in bed after his sheets have been changed by a footman he has never seen before and because he is tired and drunk and hung over all at the same time he really does fall asleep.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, restless and sweaty and because he doesn't know what else to do he starts to wander the house. It is quiet and dark, too damn quiet and too damn dark.

"Papa?" he jumps at the sound, he is used to reacting anything strange, for the past one and a half years he had to do it to save his life.

"It's only me Papa," Mary says and smiles and she looks grown up in that moment. It almost makes him cry because he missed so much of her young life.

"Mary," he says and she walks over to him. "What are you doing out of bed?"

"I couldn't sleep," she replies and then adds "like you."

"Should we roam the house together then?" he asks her and she giggles and nods. He has a mind to take her to the kitchen, he desperately needs something to eat but before they have even reached the stairs both Edith and Sybil have joined them and he finds he doesn't mind.

The girls can't believe their luck when they realize where he is taking them and become even giddier when he hands them the first plate of biscuits that he finds. For reasons he is unable to explain all his feelings of not belonging, of the overbearing quietness and darkness and softness of everything around him fade into nothingness now that he is with his daughters. He keeps feelings of guilt over this at bay, the tiny voice in his head whispering that if he feels at home with the girls he should feel at home with his wife and parents turned almost mute.

.

Faster than he thought Christmas Eve is upon him and he can't say whether it has been three days or three weeks since he came home and watched the family decorate the tree. Nothing changes for him, he only feels comfortable around his girls and tries to act normal around his parents and wife. He isn't sure whether his parents have noticed anything but Cora has of course noticed something because he refuses to sleep in her room. Since his return home they have touched only twice, when she hugged him after seeing him for the first time and when she ran her hand across his cheek a few hours later. He doesn't even have a Christmas present for her, and while he feels a little guilty about it because she is his wife and he should give her a present he also finds not regretting not trying to find one because still all he feels is emptiness when he sees her.

To clear his head before the festivities he goes on a walk and just as when he arrived, snow is falling and piercing his skin with the icy and unnatural cold he has felt ever since his return. With every step that he takes the snow blanket covering the ground and the Abbey becomes ever thicker and he feels as if he was numbed by every flake that landed on him. He can't stop or control his thoughts anymore. He can't stop asking himself why he feels so empty towards his parents and Cora. Especially Cora. He missed her so very much, his longing for her had been so strong but it all evaporated when he returned to England. And he hates himself for it. She does not deserve it, she deserves for him to be happy to be home, to be happy to see her again, to be happy to _be_ with her again. But the thought of being with her, to sleep with her twists his stomach into a thousand nods.

And the snow keeps falling and falling.

He sits down on a bench not far from the house and stares at the Abbey, watching it seemingly vanish under ever more snow.

"Robert," he hears a soft voice and a gentle hand is placed on his shoulder.

There she is. She came looking for him, of course she did.

"Go away," he says because he can't stand it. He can't stand to be with her. And she should not be able to stand being with him. She deserves so much better.

"No. I won't go away," she says and her voice sounds like velvet.

"Why not?" he scoffs.

"Because Robert, I love you. I know you are homesick for South Africa, as strange as it might sound. And I know what it means to be homesick. To want to be somewhere else so desperately that you drink yourself into a stupor and sleep on the floor every night."

"You never slept on the floor," he says.

"No," she replies. "I slept on the settee because it felt more like my bed at home."

He nods. "Home," he says and stares at the Abbey that is turning whiter every minute.

"It will be your home again, darling. I promise."

He turns to Cora and sees so much understanding written in her face that it overwhelms him and suddenly he is crying. His tear flow freely down his face, there is no reason to hide them because Cora will understand. Of all the people in the world, Cora is the one who knows him best and she has been homesick before after all.

"I am sorry Cora," he chokes out and wonders if she knows that he is not just sorry for crying in front of her but for so much more.

"I know," she says and takes his hand. For a few minutes they don't say anything and just watch the snow cover the ground.

"The girls are very happy to have their Papa back," Cora says after a while and it makes him smile.

"I feel at home when I am around them," he replies and wonders at Cora's smile. "And you are not angry about it," he adds and she gives a slight laugh that sounds like church bells ringing.

"Why would I be angry if our daughters bring you some comfort that I think you desperately need?"

"I thought you'd be jealous."

Cora laughs again and suddenly the snow feels less icy.

"No. I am glad and so very proud of them. They are able to help you where no one else can. I think that makes them wonderful girls and those three wonderful girls are our daughters. There is nothing but pride, love and joy that I feel for them."

"They don't ask me about the war. They don't ask how I feel. All they want to know is whether Father Christmas is real and whether I will smuggle them into the kitchen again and feed them with biscuits."

"I won't ask about the war or how you feel if you don't want to talk about it."

"No. I don't want to talk about it."

Cora nods again and then grins.

"Is he real then?"

"What?" he asks.

"Is Santa Clause real?"

It makes him shake with laughter and Cora laughs too and they need to hold onto each other to not fall off the bench into the snow that feels only slightly cold.

"Let's hope he is real," he says and then continues "because I don't have a present for you. But he might bring you one."

Cora shakes her head and then puts both of her hands on his face.

"Robert you came home for Christmas. You survived the war. You hurt your shoulder and I am sure that it is very painful but something much worse could have happened. You could have lost and arm or a leg or both or you could have lost your life. But you didn't. You returned safe and almost sound. I will never ask for a Christmas present again. Never."

"Do I really mean so much to you?" he asks and stares into her eyes. Eyes that are such a beautiful shade of blue.

"Robert, you may not see it right now, but you mean the world to me." Again her voice sounds just like velvet.

"Are you cold?" he asks because he doesn't know what else to say and she nods. "Then let's go back inside."

She takes his hand and he does not object. He does not mind. When they reach the front doors of the Abbey and she lets go he even feels a little sad.

.

He listens to her sing _God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman_. He should be singing along with everyone else but if he doesn't he can hear Cora's voice, can hear her sing his, their, favorite Christmas song. Cora did not even know it when she celebrated her first Christmas in England but she very quickly came to love it.

'Tidings of comfort and joy'. He wishes it were true. He wishes he could give Cora comfort and joy. Those things that she deserves so very much. She looks at him and smiles and he smiles back and it isn't a smile he fakes but a true one.

They go through the motions of hosting the party with his parents together and when they go upstairs he follows her into her room. She does not comment on it, he knows she wants him to take his time and that even the slightest remark would make him feel uncomfortable. She knows him so well and accommodates his wishes and he feels a wave of thankfulness for her wash over him.

She now leans against her vanity and comments on the odd behavior of some guests. He knows she wants him to talk to her, he knows she wishes for more and he also knows that she would under no circumstances ask for it. Not now.

Some strands of her hair have become lose and her cheeks are slight, reddened and she just looks so lovely to him. Her voice sounds like velvet again, just as it did when they were outside earlier that day and now it feels like a balm to his hurt and injured soul.

He walks over to her and when she realizes what he is doing she smiles but doesn't say anything and because she doesn't say anything, because she lets him do it his way, he leans forward and kisses her on the lips. Only very briefly but the smile and the chuckle that he is rewarded with make him do it again and this time she kisses him back. She slowly gets up from the vanity and he grabs her hips and pulls her to him and their kiss seems to last forever.

He knows that Cora wants more than just a kiss but she doesn't try and he is a bit wary of really doing more because he doesn't know how to handle something as precious as their love at the moment. He needs to be careful with it and he hasn't had to be careful in the last 18 months. In fact he had to be the opposite of careful to survive.

"Cora, I love you," he whispers and she smiles.

"I love you too," she says and he nods.

"But I think I should sleep in my own room. I am not ready for more yet."

"Of course," she says and there is no sound of sadness or regret in her voice. Just plain understanding.

He lets go off her and walks to his dressing room. When he is at the door Cora says "Goodnight darling and Merry Christmas," and he turns around and smiles at her one last time.

He wakes up in the middle of the night because the bed is too soft and the house is too quiet. Almost habitually he grabs the bottle of Scotch that is now placed on his nightstand but then sees the light under the door to Cora's room. He wonders if she is still awake. So he opens the door and sees that she is fast asleep on his side of the bed, book in one hand and his pillow in the other hand. Without thinking about what he is doing, he walks over to the bed, gently nudges her to make a little room for him and once he has lain down he puts an arm around her and falls back to sleep.

The next time he wakes up he wants to stay asleep because it is so warm and comfortable and for once his head isn't hurting and his shoulder only a little bit and he is sure that he is dreaming because he can smell the scent of Cora, an irresistible mixture of her perfume and her shampoo and just plain her and that cannot be because he is in South Africa. Fighting a bloody war and killing other people which is not half as glorious as he was told it would be and he doubts that Cora will ever let a murderer into her bed.

"Robert, you are not a murderer," he hears her gentle voice say in that unmistakable American accent. And so against his better judgment he opens his eyes and there she is, lying in his arms, smiling at him.

"You talked in your sleep. Something about having murdered other people and deserving to be punished. But you haven't murdered anyone. Don't look at it that way, it'll make it worse."

"How do you know?" he asks and he hopes it didn't sound accusatory.

Cora takes a deep breath and then says

"Because both my grandfathers and my father fought in the Civil War. They have always had a little difficulty of dealing with it. My father was young and he was a sharp shooter and I think you can imagine the rest."

"Is that why you have been so understanding? Why you haven't pushed me?"

"That and because I love you. Robert, if you want us to, we could go to America. Right after New Year's or in the Spring and if you thought it helped you could talk to my father. He wouldn't tell a soul and he wouldn't think worse of you for it."

He keeps forgetting that Cora has had to deal with the aftermaths of a bloody and unnecessary war all her life. She was born six years after its end but of course her father must have had difficulties dealing with it. He remembers that his father-in-law suffers under seemingly unexplainable nightmares but he now knows that there is an explanation for them, a very gruesome one.

"I'll think about it," he says and kisses Cora's forehead.

Without him intending it to happen and without Cora pushing him this simple kiss of thanks is the start of heated and desperate lovemaking that leaves both of them out of breath and incredibly happy and satisfied.

He pulls Cora towards him again and she holds onto him and they fall asleep again and when he wakes the next morning, Christmas morning, Cora's still sweaty hair all over his face and chest and the scent of their lovemaking still in the air he finally accepts that he is home. Home with his lovely girls and wonderful wife and that is all that matters. He came home for Christmas.

* * *

AN: I hope you liked this chapter and that it isn't too confused.

I purposely did not mention whether Cora's father and his father fought for the Union or the Confederates. My knowledge of Jews in the American Civil War is rudimentary at best and all I remember from my American History classes concerning that is that Jews were treated much better in the South than they were in the North (Grant was especially wary of them). But, as far as I know, there were Jews fighting for the Union.

Anyway, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and will have a great New Year's!

Please let me know what you think of this story/chapter.

Kat


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